I've Had My Moments: A Seamus Finnigan Fan Fiction
by InuLoveKawaii13
Summary: Seamus didn't know why he needed to take that walk. But for whatever impulse that made him do it, he was glad he did. Because angels are needed in the shadows of life as well.


I've Had My Moments

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Author Note: Inspired by the song "Moments" be Emerson Drive, I thought I should write an angsty fiction about a man, wishing to end his life, is saved by a random stranger, who had no idea what he was doing going down the particular trail he decided to take his walk on, and in the end, realized he was destined to take that walk to help the man on the bridge between life and death.

That and I wanted to experiment with other characters, less minor than the ones you usually find on here. And for me, I have always wanted to write a fan fiction about Seamus. I can't pass up such a good opportunity.

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Summary: Seamus didn't know why he needed to take that walk. But for whatever impulse that made him do it, he was glad he did. Because angels are needed in the shadows of life as well.

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The cold December breeze brought shivers to Seamus as he continued to walk down the trail he was walking on. He didn't know why, but he needed to get out of the house. He loves his daughter to the death, and his wife could never have been more beautiful if Merlin himself decided to fix her scars from the war of her childhood, but sometimes, in a house full of estrogen, a man needed to get out. It didn't help that he needed to tell her sooner or later that he was a wizard. She would find out in some odd years, when their daughter got her Hogwarts letter – unfortunately for him, she had his perpetual tendency to blow things up. Looking back now, it really was quite humorous. And he found out McGonagall had a sense of humour, dry it may be, from this little tendency of his.

As he reached the bridge over the small ravine, he spotted the man almost instantly. An Irish man knew when a lad needed to drown his sorrows, but Seamus felt that unless his gut was lying to him, this man wanted to drown his sorrows in quite the wrong fashion.

"'ello!" he called cheerily. "Lovely nigh', ain't it?" When the man merely stared, Seamus continued the conversation. "You know, may seem like a nasty bit o' a shock, but I am pretty sure that conversations work both ways," he said, now standing next to the man. He smiled at the man, a crooked grin, hoping the man would crack a smile, or at least give a small laugh. The man did neither, as if he thought being silent would get Seamus to leave.

This was a hopeless wish. Seamus's wife could attest to the fact that Seamus never did get a hint. He didn't even pay attention to every "goddamn clue" she gave him, whatever she meant by that.

"You know, my wife always tells me that I never take a hint. Merlin's pants, it's not that I can't. It is just she uses such bloody confounding methods. She should just put all out, not try to charm her way around the truth. It doesn't bloody work! Hell, Fred, a buddy of mine, tried to point out she was eyeing me like I eye the firewhiskey in the pub. I swear, the mad had to have thought all Irish like firewhiskey – bloody bloke needed to learn that Irish men prefer real brew – Irish Creams with a touch of firewhiskey and peppermint vodka, that is how he should have said she was eyeing me. Then I would have taken the hint. But no, everyone around me has to talk like the quaffle is in the hand of a Slytherin chaser!" Seamus fell silent. He figured that the man could contribute.

"Hell, if I knew she was my beautiful patronus, I would have leapt to her side in an instant. I love her so much. She saved me from my stupors." Seamus looked around him. "I was actually standing in this very spot, contemplating what you were. But then I saw her face. Remembered her from the muggle shop Fred and I were sitting in one time, while his sister was shopping – on his dime, his way of cheering her up from a break up to my other buddy Harry." Seamus fell silent. Thinking about how he really needed to tell her, and soon. "But either way, I am that annoying house elf you have to spell things out to, so you need to speak in order for me to do anything you think I should do. I am most definitely _not_ a legimens."

"Firewhiskey?" he asked, finally speaking. Seamus almost fell with the shock of the man actual speaking. "What the bloody hell is that? Sound like the spirit of the night, God willing you can share." The man smiled and held out a hand.

"Yeah, I can share. I can make some Irish Cream, too, if you want some." Seamus thought before continuing. "Unless of course you want to continue. If life is really so bad," he joked. "But I offer an ear and alcohol. Sounds loads better than jumping off into there." Seamus peaked over the edge, before backing away. "Loads better."

Seamus chattered on, the man smiling as he didn't understand a word the man was saying, Seamus being the natural confunder that he was with speak alone. The man probably thought the extremely sober Seamus was already drunk, the way the lad was talking.

The letter and picture remained in his pocket, to be taken out months later, a reminder of the funny little Irish bloke who spoke about magic as though it were real. And that December breeze didn't burn nearly as much as it did when he left the apartment just before.


End file.
